Three days later, in the wee hours of the morning, a rustling awakened Harry. Stretching and rubbing his bleary eyes with the heel of his palm. He padded into the kitchen that doubled as the foyer.
The arm of the woman he loved was floating in midair, and a smirk played across his face.
"So Agent Granger. I guess you aren't above using an invisibility cloak every now and again, are you?"
The arm stilled for a moment before Hermione appeared completely. She shot a withering glance his way.
"It's not a cloak of invisibility. It's a cloak of insubstantiation. It's the latest R and D breakthrough."
"Ah. Is that what's kept me up nights ill with worry?" He asked.
She gave him a quick once over. "You'd be able to pull off the martyred boyfriend bit if it wasn't horribly obvious you've only just woken up."
"I've missed you nonetheless," he said with a small smile before folding her into his arms and kissing her neck. "And it's betrothed now, not boyfriend."
"Don't get too amorous. I haven't showered or slept in three days, and you have quidditch practice bright and early tomorrow."
She kissed the side of his cheek and extricated herself from his arms. "Or bright and early today, if you want to get technical."
She hung her cloak up in the closet and grabbed a mug out of the cupboard. It was chipped on the side, and had a picture of a fat, orange cat on it with the words "I wuv my wittle kitty," emblazoned over the image. As if being called, Crookshanks miaowed pitifully from far away.
Hermione ran to the linen closet and opened the door. "Harry! How long have you had my baby locked in there?"
"Well, 'your baby' scratches up the furniture if you let it roam around when you're not here."
"But the linen closet, Harry? Why not the bathroom? Or my study?"
"I spent days trying to find the perfect Tiffany lamp to fit in your study. I'm not going to have the little beast knock it over. And I'm certainly not letting it in the same room with me when I'm naked."
"Fine. I'll make a playpen or something for my precious little kitten-poo." The last bit of this conversation was directed to the cat as she scratched it's chin. "Go see Daddy!" She said pushed the cat into Harry's arms.
"Erm..."
"I have to shower. Bond with the cat, go back to bed, I really don't care, just so long as you realize the expression 'I'd kill for a shower,' isn't so much an expression as it is a statement of intent."
He thought for a moment about following her into the shower, then decided against it. He was hoping for a great deal of explanation, and it was best if she were clean and rested when he asked for answers.
The water in the shower trickled to a slow drip and footsteps padded over to Hermione's side of the bed. The mattress dipped under her weight as she slipped between the sheets.
As was her habit, she wrestled with the bedclothes in an attempt to squish the comforter off of her without disturbing Harry. She's accidentally trapped one arm in it, and had her ankle wrapped about the bottom when Harry rolled towards her and onto his back.
"Cripes woman! Must you make a production out of everything?"
He pulled the comforter from the bed, tossing it to the floor, and pulled her head to his chest. Resisting all but the most driving need, she drifted into sleep.